Soren Kierkegaard

were walking around and grazing out there, to which his coachman had
replied gravely: “They are all the cows of Aarhus.” Another episode was
quite serious, for all its comic trappings: “On the way to Aarhus I saw a
very amusing sight. Two cows harnessed together cantered past us. One
wasfriskingaboutwithasmartswingtohertail;theotherwas,asitseemed,
more prosaic and in sheer distress at having to participate in these same
movements.—Aren’tmostmarriagesorganizedinthismanner?”Theresig-
nationincorporatedinthislittleallegorydidnotaugurparticularlywell,and
italludesdarklytoanearlierjournalentryinwhichKierkegaardcomplained
about having overreached himself in relation to the ideal: “This is why I
give birth to monsters, and this is why reality does not measure up to my
burningdesires—andmayGodgrantthatthiswillnotalsobetrueoflove,
becausethere,too,Iamseizedbyanobscureanxietyabouthavingconfused
theidealwiththeactual.Godforbid!Thishasnothappenedyet.—Butthis
anxiety, which makes me so eager to know the future before it arrives—
and yet I fear it!”
Early on the morning of August 6, Kierkegaard sailed from Aarhus to
Kalundborg, this time, thank God, with the supermodern, well-equipped
steamshipChristian VIII, so the crossing took only six hours. He had been
awayfromCopenhagenabitmorethanthreeweeks.Fromthesternofthe
boathecouldseeAarhusdisappear,andshortlyafterwardthemountainsof
MolsandthehillsofTrehøjesankintothesea.Sæddingwassomeplacefar
away and could gradually begin to regain its mythic power.
OnSaturday,August8,KierkegaardwasbackinCopenhagenwherehe
belonged, and now he could run free as thequodlibetariushe had so much
wanted to be.
Precisely a month later he committed the luckiest mistake of his life.